


Child's Play

by lady_needless_litany



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crimes & Criminals, Gen, Religious Cults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 13:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16063817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/pseuds/lady_needless_litany
Summary: A year after Inej took to the seas, a run-in with a nameless ship forced her to return to Ketterdam. And when she got there, all was not as she left it.





	Child's Play

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nivena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nivena/gifts).



> This didn’t turn out quite as well as I initially hoped it would. I ended up simplifying the plot quite a bit and some of the characterisations are a bit off. Having said that, it’s my first fic for this fandom and it didn’t go too badly - I hope that you enjoy it!

Night had fallen on Ketterdam. Light and laughter spilled across the East Stave, apparently warm and welcoming. Despite the late autumn chill in the air, the street was thronged with costumed visitors — and quiet pickpockets, small and swift, moving through the crowd unnoticed.

Inej considered cutting straight through the fray; it was tempting, but the risk was too great. She hadn’t been gone long enough for no one to recognise her. Instead, she resigned herself to the darker edges of the street, skirting the buildings and keeping her head down.

_What are you doing? Where are you going?_ _Don’t look like you’re lost, don’t look like you’re aimless_ _—_ _that’s when you start looking like an easy target._

Her brain peppered her with questions.

_Kaz. I’m going to see Kaz. At the Slat._

Except...that didn’t quite feel right. Not yet.

_Then where?_

Her mind reeled off a list of people that she could find, places she could go. There were plenty, but she wasn’t sure of any of them. A city could change a lot in a year. As could a person. The initial thought was matter-of-fact, but a flutter of nerves was hot on its heels. She needed to breathe and clear her head — she glanced up at the surrounding roofs, but decided that she couldn’t get up anywhere quickly without risking attention.

Instead, practically on a whim, she ducked through the doorway of a pub. It was nowhere fancy, but the beer was plentiful and cheap. Inej had passed it a million times before, always swerving away from the splitting-at-the-seams front room. Tonight, however, the ruckus seemed to provide a solid backdrop for her uncertainty.

She weaved her way across the room, carefully avoiding eye contact. Luckily, most tables seemed to be involved in one card game or another, or drunk out of their skulls, so no one seemed to be paying her much attention.

She reached the bar without issue, pushing her hood back and freeing her plait.

The bartender was a woman in her fifties, sociable but also no-nonsense. Perhaps surprised to see a lone woman in the midst of her clientele, she served Inej quickly and pointed her towards a small, out-of-the-way table in the corner closest to the bar. Its proximity to her host afforded a small degree of security, not that Inej really needed it, so she smiled and settled down with the wall at her back.

She cringed as she took a small sip of her beer; she’d never been a fan of the stuff — too bitter and also too dangerous. She fiddled for a few minutes: adjusting her gloves, repositioning her cloak, brushing back a stray strand of hair.

She attempted to mull over her options, unwilling to waste her limited time on land, but any semblance of decisiveness evaded her. Unconsciously, she gave up. She turned her attention to discreetly scout the room, eyes skimming from one face to another. A couple seemed vaguely recognisable, but no one that she could name. There was a particular head that looked familiar, by a post on the other side of the room, but the man had yet to turn, so she couldn’t be sure. She noted him as someone to check again later, otherwise moving on.

Her inspection lasted her about ten minutes — then she was pulled in to watching the game of cards being played at the largest table. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she was sure that the six men around the table were growing steadily more tense. The place was a bar, not a casino, so the stakes would be comparatively low...even so, a couple of consecutive losses could easily bankrupt a labourer for a month. As they tangibly progressed towards a climax, a small group of people clustered around them, hanging on every turn. Inej found that they blocked her view, but provided another form of entertainment; she could easily track the progress of the game from the reactions of the crowd.

A collective intake of breath. A moment of agonising suspense. A palm slamming a card down on the wooden table.

Then a round of applause as the winner, she wasn’t quite sure who it was, claimed his winnings.

The little gathering dispersed as quickly as it had formed, people drifting off in all directions. Inej took another reluctant mouthful of beer, shaking her head at her own indecision.

“I never thought I’d catch you in a place like this.”

Inej’s stomach dropped as she cursed herself for allowing someone to notice her. As she looked up, her hand went instinctively to the knife tucked into her belt.

But her face cracked into a smile as she saw the speaker. Tall, well-dressed, cocky grin, a pair of pistols — Jesper hadn’t changed at all.

They embraced awkwardly, across the table.

“Seriously, though,” Jesper said as they pulled apart. “What are you doing here? You didn’t tell us that you were coming.”

He took a seat at the table as Inej grimaced. “This is unplanned. I was going to be here in a month or so, but there was a change of plan.”

Jesper raised an eyebrow.

“We had a run-in with some pirate types. Nothing serious, but left some sizeable holes in the ship. We’re in port for repairs.”

“Kaz won’t be too happy to know that one of his assets is damage.”

She snorted. “I can afford it. We’re making enough from carrying bits of cargo.”

“‘Bits of cargo.’”

“Turns out that Grisha aren’t too keen on traditional transport. And they’re all crazy enough to think that mine’s a good ship to travel on.”

He laughed disbelievingly. “Seriously? I can’t imagine that.”

“Me neither. But they pay well, so I’m not complaining.”

They fell into idle chit-chat, Inej regaling Jesper with snippets of her adventures, while he relayed the trials and tribulations of Ketterdam. There was a genuine spark of pleasure in his eyes from seeing her again; she was surprised at how strongly she reciprocated.

“Where are you staying?”

“I’m not certain yet,” she admitted. “I’ll find somewhere. Don’t worry about me.”

Jesper would have none of it. “Stay with me and Wylan. You can have your old room.”

Inej would confess that she hardly protested. After months in a cramped cabin, it was impossible to resist the temptation of luxury.

Jesper gestured at her barely-touched drink, knowing her distaste for the stuff. “Are you done?”

“Definitely.”

His chair scraped against the floor as they rose from their seats and made for the backdoor.

It was a relief to get out of the bar, into the fresh air and onto the calmer backstreets. They conversed as they walked, Inej gleaning tiny details about Nina and Kaz. When it came to the former, she assumed that Jesper simply didn’t know what she was doing. When it came to Kaz, she assumed that it was just the habitual secrecy.

“So you’re a legitimate businessman now?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said modestly, though Inej thought she detected some pride. “But I’m getting better with my investments.”

They reached the Van Eck mansion in record time. Wylan was still working, but when he saw Inej he abandoned his planning and welcomed her effusively. They stayed up far later than was wise, until it was morning, rather than night.

* * *

When she woke the next day, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and dressed quickly. She wandered down the hall until she heard familiar voices — they drifted from the open door of Wylan’s study and they sounded concerned. She slipped in and was greeted by preoccupied smiles.

“What’s that?” Inej gestured to the weathered sheet of paper in Jesper’s hands.

“Business,” Jesper said vaguely, plainly absorbed in his reading.

Intriguing. “Good business?”

“No, unfortunately.” Wylan frowned. “One of my shipments got intercepted. The crew’s fine, but we lost all the cargo.”

“What was it carrying?”

He shrugged. “Grain.”

“Do you know who it was?”

Wylan sighed, one hand rising to massage his temples. “I’d guess it was just pirates — there’s no shortage of them, as you know.”

“Firsthand.”

“Apparently, they had some tattoo,” Jesper said, scrutinising the letter. “A dragon.”

“Like a gang tattoo?” Inej flicked through her mental archive of similar symbols.

“Yeah, that’s what the captain’s said.”

They lapsed into an odd silence, none of them knowing what to say or do.

Eventually, Wylan found his voice, though he sounded weary. “I’ll make sure it’s reported to the authorities.”

“Is there any point in that?” Inej asked, Jesper silently agreeing with her.

“Oh, no,” Wylan laughed, in a pained sort of way. “But it’ll make me feel better.”

Inej barely head his last words. Something, a thought, had struck her.

“Actually,” she said slowly. “I think I’ve had a run-in with them myself.”

The two men looked astonished. “What?”

She nodded. “That’s what damaged the ship.”

“D’you know anything about them?”

“No. The tattoo’s distinctive, though: it’s black, about a finger’s length in size, and it’s kind of curved-” she traced the shape of an s in the air. “-with the head at the top and a barbed tail at the bottom.”

“We’ve got a bit more to go on, at least.” Wylan looked at the clock on the mantelpiece as it chimed discreetly. “Look, I’d better go, but I’ll see you later. Let’s have a proper dinner together tonight.”

So Wylan spent the day schmoozing a pair of merchants in the formal rooms of the Van Eck mansion, while Inej and Jesper took to the streets. It was quite unplanned, but it felt like the most sensible thing to do, especially as Inej wanted to ensure that she wasn’t losing her touch.

This dragon tattoo gang could be nothing — criminal groups, especially small and localised ones, rose and fell at the drop of a hat. Alternatively, they could be a problem. They’d interfered with both Inej’s work and Wylan’s: that suggested that they had reach.

At midday, most of their sources were shuttered away, but Jesper insisted that he knew someone at a boarding house not far away. Inej complied. It seemed as good a place to start as any.

“Who’s this mysterious source?” she asked.

Jesper looked smug. “You’ll see. You know her.”

“Do you think she’ll know anything?”

“Probably not. But she’s been travelling recently, so she might have seen something along the way.”

Inej was certain that wouldn’t pry any more information out for now, so she resigned herself to the tormentous curiosity.

They turned onto one of the main roads, a more reputable area that hosted decent-but-not-wealthy tourists. Crossing the street, they stopped in front of a large building. Inej cast her eye over its old but neat façade.

“This isn’t the kind of place where sources usually stay,” she mentioned sceptically.

Jesper grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “My source isn’t a normal source.”

He led her into the building. There was a woman, probably the owner, at a desk just inside the door.

“We’re here to see Rosalina.” Jesper told her, using his most charming tone.

“Of course,” she replied, smiling. “You know the rules.”

_He’s been here before_. Inej thought to herself. _This source isn’t just a source. Unless ‘Rosalina’ is a codeword and something else is going on here._

Before she could ponder the matter too deeply, Jesper was ushering her up a narrow set of stairs and along a corridor lined with doors. He spied the right door - Room 12 - and steered her towards it.

He knocked loudly.

There was a pause, then the sound of footsteps. The door swung inwards with the slightest creak, revealing a face that was surprisingly familiar.

“Nina?” Inej said, amazed. “I thought you were in Fjerda.”

“I was,” she said with a touch of regret. “I guess I didn’t find what I was looking for.”

“Oh.”

“And, I mean-” Nina was trying to shake the melancholia off. “The winter was hideous. My skin cracked!”

She shook her head at the memory. “Anyway, come in.”

She stepped back to allow them through.

“Why are you going by a false name?” Inej asked as she sized up the room. It was fairly innocuous, neither large or small or particularly interesting. The furnishings were worn, but were of a decent standard. A bed took up a large portion of the room, with the rest of the space split between a small seating area, a wardrobe, and a wash stand.

Nina waved them towards the pair of armchairs; Jesper settled into one, but Inej choose to perch on the wide windowsill instead. Their host didn’t seem surprised. She took the other chair.

“It’s just a precaution. People might know that I was involved with the Dregs and I’d rather stay out of all that.”

A fair enough comment. Inej could understand.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming back.” Nina accused playfully.

“That’s what I said!” Jesper interjected. “Rude, right?”

“Hey! It’s not my fault.” Inej glared at them both without any real malice. “I didn’t _ask_ to get attacked.”

Suddenly, Nina was all concern. “You were attacked?”

“Pirates. Nothing serious. Light damage.”

Nina didn’t appear to be reassured. “Enough damage that you needed to stop for repairs?”

“Yes, but it should only be a couple of weeks, give or take. Plus, my crew were due leave.”

“Well, at any rate, I’m glad you’re here. It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know. I’m sorry about that.”

“Well...sometimes it’s unavoidable.” Nina said. “Anything interesting to tell me?”

Inej and Jesper exchanged a glance.

“Now that you mention it,” he said. “We were talking earlier and we were wondering if you could help us with something.”

If Nina was suspicious or put on her guard, she hid it well. “Right.”

Inej took over. “Have you ever seen someone with a tattoo of a dragon on their arm? A black one? Pointy tail?”

“Possibly.” Nina tilted her head to one side, thinking. “But I took several ships between here and Fjerda, and we stopped in several ports on the way. Lots of tattoos.”

“Anything while you were in Fjerda itself?”

“Not sure. But surely you must have seen it? You’ve been at sea for a year.”

“Exactly. We spend as much time as possible at sea. When we pick up supplies, it’s quick and at the smallest towns possible.”

“Ah.” Nina frowned. “Look, it sounds familiar, but that might be my mind playing tricks. Why does it matter?”

“When we were attacked, we were boarded. Briefly. They didn’t survive long. But they all had this tattoo.”

Jesper cut in. “One of Wylan’s shipments was stolen. They had the same tattoo.”

“The same ship?”

He shook his head. “We don’t think so. The events were no more than a day apart.”

Inej picked up the thread. “My ship was in Kerch waters - only a couple of hours from Ketterdam, if the ship hadn’t been so battered.”

“But Wylan’s shipment was travelling to Ravka,” Jesper finished.

Nina sighed. “This sounds like a problem. A pain in the ass kind of problem.”

* * *

After dinner, Inej excused herself, ostensibly to sleep. Of course, that wasn’t the truth; she slipped out of the window, praying to every saint she’d ever heard of, hoping she’d not lost her touch.

She hadn’t, thankfully. Though she took a few wrong turns, her balance and silence were as impeccable as always. Indeed, as she crossed the rooftops, she had an odd sense that she was back where she belonged. She ignored the sensation and focused on finding the right building.

The Slat wasn’t difficult to locate. Saints know she’d done it enough for it to be second nature.

She slipped through the open window at the top of the building, as welcoming to her as the warmth of a fireplace in winter. She misjudged it a little, landing with a small thump. There went her chance of surprising Kaz.

Not that he even looked up. He was seated at his desk, leaning over a sheaf of papers. He gave no indication of hearing her entry, except for a split-second pause in writing.

“Kaz,” she said quietly, moving to stand in front of him.

He finished his sentence with a flourish and looked up. A slow smile spread across his face, the kind he’d never show to anyone else. “Inej.”

* * *

A day later, they ended up squashed around a table in the private room of a pub off the East Stave - the Dregs had some connection with the owner, and it was safer and easier than anywhere else. Wylan, Jesper, and Nina had arrived together, followed by a discreet Kaz, and finally Inej.

The feelings in the room were mixed: there was a sense of comfortable familiarity, at odds with the undercurrent of tension. And Mattias’ absence was painfully tangible.

“We need to do something about them. They’re a threat to all of us.” Kaz’s voice was as authoritative as ever. When Inej had told him about the attack on the ship, he’d taken it on as his own issue, without hesitation. She supposed it made sense, given the money he’d spent on obtaining the _Wraith_ for her.

Everyone around there table signalled their assent, murmuring their agreement.

“How?” Nina asked.

“They’re probably based in Ketterdam,” Wylan contributed. “If we could locate them, we’d have a better chance of doing something.”

Kaz nodded. “You’re right. At this point, we don’t even have a name. We need to do serious reconnaissance before we do anything.”

“The authorities have noted this group’s existence. Apparently, my report wasn’t the first. But they’ve no information on them.”

“That they’re willing to share, at least,” Jesper added

“Hm.” Kaz had a particular look in his eyes, one that told Inej he was plotting. “I suggest we take multiple lines of enquiry.”

No one responded, except through nods.

“First, we need to find out how powerful these people are, whether their attacks are random or part of a larger picture. Wylan, can you make enquiries? Find out if any other merchants have lost anything to them, see if anyone knows anything?”

“I can do that. I’ll need Jesper, though, for…”

“Naturally.” He turned his attention to the two women. “Inej, Nina, you can start at the docks. Ask around. See if you find anyone with the tattoo.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll send some others out too. I’ll pay a few social calls myself.”

* * *

“Why do we always let Kaz talk us into this kind of mess?” Nina said, accompanying the statement with a roll of curses that would make a sailor proud.

“If you ever find out,” Inej replied, peering down the dock. “Tell me, because I’ve yet to figure it out myself.”

“Usually,” Nina continued. “There’s money involved. Some kind of incentive. But not today. Today we’re up at the crack of dawn for no damn reason at all.”

Despite her over-exaggerated tone, Nina wasn’t wrong. It was so early that a large portion of the sky was still dark and they were traipsing through the Fifth Harbour. In the cold, at that. The sea wind had a bitter bite.

They made their way to the furthest extremity of the harbour, a trip which took them past the _Wraith_ itself. When they reached the end, they turn sharply and began to retrace their footsteps. On the way, they scrutinised the ships that they passed - sails, hull, and figurehead - for any image of the black dragon. To maintain the pretence of two travellers, they talked casually as they went and tried not to catch anyone’s eye. That was why they were out so early; although the harbour was never empty, there were fewer people about at that time of day and those that were kept themselves to themselves.

Back and forth, up and down: they ranged across the length and breadth of the harbour, scanning every vessel they saw.

No luck.

There was nothing that even faintly resembled the symbol that they were searching for. An hour and a half later, both of them were prepared to admit defeat. Despite their vigorous walking, they were shivering and disengaged.

“It’s definitely not here.”

Inej concurred.

“We could call it a day,” Nina said hopefully, even knowing that they would do no such thing. There was a certain solidarity in that moment.

“No...boarding houses next,” Inej replied gloomily. “Then the taverns.”

“Wonderful,” Nina responded, in a tone akin to Inej’s. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

* * *

Making strange, probing enquiries was probably quite an efficient way of making it onto someone’s list of targets. They did it anyway, mainly because Inej was confident she could stab their way out of any situation and Nina was more than capable of taking care of any problems. Permanently, if need be.

The accommodation near the harbour, which saw heavy foot traffic from sailors, tourists, and merchants alike, was a dead end. The owners and staff were tight-lipped, their customers normally out of sight. Several times, people flat-out refused to speak to them or shut the door in their faces. They gave up when someone threatened to have them arrested for prying into private business. It seemed unlikely that would actually happen, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

Then came the more alcoholic institutions.

The Siren’s Splendour was Inej’s favourite of the day. Not because it was interesting - it wasn’t, it was identical to every other place they visited - but just because it felt like someone had put some effort into thinking of a name. Unlike The Merchant’s Head or The Ship Inn, which were the two neighbouring establishments.

It was about midday, so there was a notable lack of companions for hire and of purveyors of illegal goods. Inej was glad for that. Somehow, though, most of the places already had a steady trickle of customers. Nina and Inej moved from one tavern to another, searching the forearms of the patrons as closely as they could without being noticed. Not being noticed was certainly quite a struggle: the only two women in a room full of men couldn’t not be noticed. Luckily, Inej’s glare was strong enough to make anyone thinking of causing trouble have second thoughts.

They went to every establishment they could find, from the harbour itself and up into the West Stave. Still nothing.

“This is the last one,” Nina said exhaustedly. “I can’t face any more.”

They were standing in front of a small, surprisingly neat pub in the area between the East Stave and the Zelver District. It was called The Queen’s Lady, though which queen the name referred to was something of a mystery. Its clientele seemed a little better behaved than most places that they’d seen that day.

“The very last,” Inej agreed.

With a palpable air of resignation, they entered.

“There!” Nina whispered excited. “The woman at the table by the window.”

Inej glanced over, as discreetly as she could.

The woman was about her age, give or take a couple of years. Her hair, if freed from its practical braid, might prove to be a light yellow, hinting at some Fjerdan blood. Her clothing was nondescript, suitable for a working woman or for a less wealthy tourist. The arms of her blouse were rolled up to expose her forearms, one of which bore the dragon mark. At an estimate, the ink was at least a year or two old, no longer startlingly fresh.

“I’ll get some drinks,” Inej suggested. “You go and ask if we can sit with her.”

For a split second, Nina considered protesting, but she saw the wisdom in it. She made her way over to the table, presenting an almost sheepish smile.

“Excuse me,” she said politely. “Do you mind if we sit with you? My friend and I-” she indicated Inej, who was buying drinks “-aren’t so comfortable sitting by our selves.”

As she’d hoped, the woman clearly understood her meaning and caved in to her sympathy. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Inej joined them shortly, putting three glasses on the table. The woman seemed pleasantly surprised, if reserved.

“Unusual to see two ladies of your calibre in here,” she stated. Though her accent was rough around the edges, she was polite and enunciated well. Strange.

“We’re just visiting,” Nina supplied. “We got a little lost. We’re stopping to reorientate ourselves.”

The woman nodded slowly.

“I’m Nina, by the way, and this is Inej.”

The woman nodded in acknowledgement, but didn’t tell them her name in response. Both Nina and Inej mentally swore. There was no way they could ask openly without tipping her off.

They tried different angles, pretending that their questions were nothing but idle friendliness. They wasted a quarter of an hour in that manner, fruitlessly. The woman rejected every attempt, somehow deflecting their enquiries without crossing into rudeness.

She knocked back the rest of her drink and stood.

“I’d better go,” she said, cordial but distant. “Enjoy your trip.”

And that was it. She walked out the door.

Inej waited a heartbeat. “Meet me back at Wylan’s,” she whispered to Nina.

She caught the door before it had closed behind the nameless woman. Mentally, she calculated every possible route the woman could have taken, then picking the one at random.

It only took a few minutes for it to prove fruitless, so she retraced her footsteps and tried again. And again.

She must have suspected that they were going to follow her, because her disappearance had been too quick and too effective to have been anything other than planned. Inej returned to the mansion empty-handed and frustrated.

Nina and Wylan did their best to calm her, to convince her that they’d not lost anything, but Inej was sure that she was the lead they needed.

So she scoured Ketterdam, end to end, for two days. Neither the dens of the Staves, nor the glittering windows of the shopping areas, nor the staid streets of the business district yielded a trace of her. Inej despaired. She could have left on a boat. She could be lying low in any building in the city. She could have passed Inej on the street when her eyes had been elsewhere. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack - except she couldn’t be sure that the needle was in the haystack in the first place.

The University was her last port of call, her last chance saloon. She wasn’t hopeful. The woman hadn’t had the air of a student - what other purpose could she have there? Nonetheless, she went, dawdling in the central quadrangle for as long as she could without drawing unwanted attention. The sun was setting by that point; the twilight bled the air of heat and she felt her determination begin to suffer a similar fate.

Her instincts had been right. She’d found nothing.

She trudged away from the university buildings, dejected. But her trip homeward-bound, however, proved to be quite a different story.

* * *

“I found her!” Inej said as she burst into the dining room.

The other three were indulging in an early dinner, having been firmly told by Inej not to wait for her. Kaz was off tending to his business, as usual.

It took several seconds of awkward chewing and coughing before they managed to choke down their respective mouthfuls of food.

“What?” Nina said, agog, at the same time that Wylan managed a “how?”

“I’m not sure what happened, really...it was all by chance. I just saw her. Walking.”

“Damn,” Jesper said emphatically. “You search for two days, then she just walks past you.”

“Sounds impossible, I know.” Inej shook her head in disbelief. “I followed her to a house, just around the corner from here.”

She described the place in detail, from the colour of the door to the pitch of the roof. Somewhere along the line, Wylan’s eyes lit up in recognition. “I know the place you’re talking about! It belongs to Roel Vos, a friend of my father.”

“I swear,” Jesper muttered. “These merchants get up to as much crime as the rest of us.”

The others ignored him. “What do you know about this Vos?” Nina asked.

“Um...he’s a merchant, mostly antiques. He’s not been very successful in the last few years.”

“Anything else? Family? Enemies?”

“No enemies or rivals that I know of. He’s married, no kids.” He frowned. “I seem to remember that he’s religious, but I couldn’t tell you which religion it is.”

“Hm.” Jesper nodded and stood. “I’m going to go and let Kaz know.”

“I’ll go,” Inej offered. “You're in the middle of dinner.”

“You’ve been out all day. I’ll go,” he countered firmly.

“True,” Inej conceded, noticing that the food on the table was looking more and more appealing. “Are you sure?”

It was, Jesper reassured her, steering her towards a chair. Once she was seated and digging into a plate of food, he left.

Wylan, meanwhile, was berating himself for not paying more attention to Roel Vos. During his childhood, he’d done his best to ignore his father’s associates, and Vos hadn’t been a significant player since he’d taken over the business. Still. He was cursing every detail that evaded him now.

It seemed random, but Vos’ faith kept niggling him. The people of Kerch worshipped Ghezen, Ravkans had their saints, Fjerdans had Djel. Yet Vos prayed to someone - or something - else. It seemed an odd choice. “It’s something obscure, I swear. He wears this amulet - a snake, maybe?”

Nina gestured emphatically with her knife. “If we don’t know, we need to find out.”

“We could break into his house,” Wylan offered.

The two women laughed.

“You just want an excuse to burgle someone!” Nina accused lightly.

“I don’t, I swear. I just...it’s on the table.”

* * *

“Wylan’s right,” Jesper said. “We need to break into his study.”

Satisfied and vindicated, Wylan adopted an expression just short of smug. “Kaz?”

Kaz looked at Inej as if asking for permission; when she didn’t shake her head or seem reluctant, he spoke frankly. “Inej can get in and out, get the papers we need. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

It was the next day and Wylan’s dining room had been converted into their headquarters.

“Why do we alway end up breaking into places?” Nina muttered to herself. “For once…”

Inej patted her on the shoulder.

“Alright, then,” Nina sighed. “What’s the plan?”

The plan was worryingly simple. In comparison to everything else they’d pulled? It was child’s play. It made Inej strangely nervous.

It was to be done during the early evening of the next day. Wylan had invited Roel Vos to a meeting, which should clear their way. There would be staff in the house, but Vos’ study should be empty.

It was his study that was Inej’s goal. If Wylan’s information was correct, which she prayed it was, then it was on the ground floor, looking out over a garden that was clearly someone’s pride and joy. Sticking to the side of the house, she rounded the building and found the window Wylan had specified.

Peering in, she saw that it was exactly as he’d described: old-fashioned, neat, and - most importantly - empty.

She took a moment to wrap her hand around on of her daggers and send a prayer to her saints.

Then she set about picking the window lock.

It wasn’t a particularly heavy-duty thing, presenting only a scrap of a challenge. Against her practiced hands, it lasted less than ten seconds, yielding with a defeated click.

She eased the window open, ears alert for any sound that she’d raised suspicion. When she was sure she’d gone undetected, she pulled herself up and over the window sill.

The floor was carpeted, absorbing any sounds her feet made and giving her an extra layer of security. Acutely aware of the seconds ticking by, she crossed the room quickly, rifling through the papers stacked on the desk. It was mundane stuff - receipts, permits, letters from customers. Nothing that aroused suspicion. Nothing that could be construed as illegal.

The desk itself, then.

The first drawer yielded pens and paperweights. She inspected the seals closely, hoping for the dragon. No luck.

The second drawer was stuffed to the brim with old ship manifests. Meticulously, she consulted each and every one. Again, nothing.

The third was much the same. The fourth was completely empty, devoid of even a scrap of paper.

Frustrated, the last drawer closed with a louder thunk than she’d intended. She froze.

Steps, light but definite, echoed down the hall, heralding the imminent arrival of someone that wouldn’t take well to Inej’s presence. Her heart accelerated, but she kept her mind calm.

There was an armchair in one corner, which could - if she crouched low enough - could obscure her.

Holding her breath, she saw the handle turn and the door open in almost slow motion. As she did so, something caught her attention. A keyhole. One of the cupboards was lockable.

But then the door was open and a woman - a girl, really - was standing in the centre of the room. Attired in black and white, the standard uniform of a domestic employee of a good household, she looked around nervously. Inej got the feeling that she wasn’t supposed to be in here. There wasn’t any dust on the shelves, though, so someone had to be cleaning: maybe a housekeeper, someone whose loyalty was indubitable. Whoever it was, it wasn’t this girl. She still looked like she didn’t know what to do with herself. She looked worried, to the point where Inej felt rather sorry that she’d interfered with the girl’s day.

Eventually, she noticed that the window was open, at which point Inej’s stomach clenched uncomfortably. In her anxiety, however, the girl didn’t seem to link the open window with the possibility of an intruder, instead assuming that her employer had been a little absent-minded on his way out of the house.

She fastened the window shut, which didn’t concern Inej - she could get back out as easily as she’d gotten in. Then she smoothed her dress down, the gesture so unconscious that Inej was sure it was a calming habit. She backed out of the room and gently closed the office’s door behind her, leaving Inej alone once more.

Inej paused a second, just to be sure that the girl was gone.

Her lockpicking kit made quick work of the lock and the door swung open to reveal shelves upon shelves of neatly stacked paper. One stack, on the middle shelf, was clearly the most recent - they were white and crisp, where the others had begun to yellow. She pulled that stack out and examined it.

It seemed to be mostly receipts and official documentation, maybe trading permits or ship registrations; she wasn’t sure. More importantly, carefully printed on each sheet of paper was a familiar black dragon.

Triumphantly, she tucked the papers into her shirt and exited the way that she’d entered.

* * *

“These are forgeries,” Jesper asserted, holding the papers up to the light. “These ships aren’t licenced. We can get him on that.”

Nina, at the dining table, traced the shape of the dragon with her fingernail. Emblazoned underneath it were the words ‘The Eternal Hall of the Black Dragon.’ In smaller font, beneath that, was what they presumed was the cult’s motto: ‘blind are the faithless.’

“The Eternal Hall of the Black Dragon,” Nina said slowly, chasing the memories that the name had stirred.

“Yes. A religion, clearly,” Wylan prompted.

“No. Not a religion. A cult.”

Met by confused faces, she elaborated. “I heard about them when I was in Fjerda. They started in Shu Han. Not sure when or why, but now they’re spreading. Trying to, at least.”

“What do they believe?”

“They’re a doomsday cult, I think.”

“So why the attacks?” Wylan pressed.

“Beats me.” Jesper shrugged, insouciant. “Maybe they’re the kind that tries to bring about the apocalypse, rather than just predicting it.”

“No,” Kaz interjected softly. “This is about money. It always is.”

The others exchanged glances. It made sense.

“Think about it. These receipts, they’re all spending. There’s no reference to income,” Kaz explained. “And this is a _fringe doomsday_ _cult_.They can’t afford all this on donations or tithe.”

“Right,” Inej said, growing more and more sure he was correct. “Wylan’s ship, say. Grain can be sold on easily, discreetly.”

“Exactly.” He looked around at the others, pleased to see that they were beginning to nod.

“So I guess that my ship…”

“Was a mistake.” Kaz completed. “They must have thought you were carrying cargo.”

Amateurs. Unbelievable. She shook her head. “I’m almost offended.”

“Offended?”

“Yes. They broke my boat and it wasn’t even for a good reason.”

Kaz laughed. It was such a rare sight that it made Inej break into a wide smile.

Wylan spoke from behind them. “Well, I’ll make sure this is delivered to the right people. Anonymously, of course.”

“Do you think he’ll get arrested?” Inej asked.

Sensing that Wylan was unsure, it was Kaz that answered. “I doubt it. Most of the crimes weren’t in Kerch waters and these papers don’t definitively link Vos to specific incidents anyway. His trading permits are another matter - his days as a merchant are history, unless I’m very much mistaken.”

“What now?” Nina asked. “Now that we’ve sorted this out...and the _Wraith_ ’s almost finished...what happens now?”

Inej opened her mouth to reply, but Jesper beat her to it. “Look, we can talk serious stuff in the morning. Tonight we’re breaking out the champagne.”


End file.
